


More, A Matter of Policy

by clgfanfic



Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:23:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of the episode "A Matter of Policy"</p>
            </blockquote>





	More, A Matter of Policy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Remote Control #1 and later in Boss And Bodacious: Special Collection #2 under the pen name Lynn Gill.

Cody eased the ball of his foot off the Corvette's accelerator as he cruised along the LA International Airport flyway, looking for Murray.  He finally spotted the computer expert seated on the curb, a pile of baggage in a heap nearby.  The man bore a striking resemblance to several transients Cody had already passed.  Only the collection of pencils and pens nestled in his shirt pocket gave him away.

 _Must've been a long conference_ , the blond detective laughed to himself.

The thin detective looked startled when Cody pulled up and honked.

"Hi, Murray!"

"Cody?"

While Murray collected his baggage, Cody parked and opened the trunk.  Climbing back behind the wheel of the sports car, he waited for the third member of the Riptide Detective partnership to join him.

Murray sat down, his uncomfortableness manifesting as deep lines across his forehead.  "I thought Nick would pick me up," he finally said.

Cody smiled slyly.  "Naw, he's busy right now."

"Look, Cody, before you get mad again about the car, just let me say, the man has insurance, and he's very upset that he… did… what he did."

"Well, that's something," Cody muttered under his breath as he pulled back into traffic and headed back to King Harbor.

"The Jimmy's being repaired as we speak.  Mister Abernathy, that's the man who hit the car, well, he's even going to pay to have it driven back up here and delivered when it's completed.  Isn't that nice?"

"Yeah, Murray, that's nice.  How long?"

"The end of the week."

Cody scowled but remained silent.

They drove in silence for several minutes before Murray's curiosity finally got the better of his common sense.  "Uh, Cody?"

"Yeah?"

"Why _did_ you pick me up?  I know how Nick is about the 'Vette.  I really expected him to."

"It's sort of a long story, Murray, but I guess we have time…"  Cody launched into the skeletal details of the past few days, highlighting Nick's accident with the _Riptide_ , the Howard murder case, Beverly, and the blond's latest acquisition.

"…So, when I saw the 'Vette on TV, I had to go get it.  You should've seen him!  It was something, watching Nick's face when he walked out and saw it sitting there."

Murray took in the story, slightly amazed that Cody was being so mercenary about the situation.  After all, Nick had put his pride and joy up for sale to fix the _Riptide_ and, from what Cody said, the boat was fine.

 _I wonder why he's being so cruel_ , Murray thought.  _It's not like Cody, even if it is connected to the boat_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Hey, Nick, we're back!" Cody called as they boarded the _Riptide_.  No answer echoed from below.  "Wonder where he is," Cody said as he helped carry in Murray's baggage, setting it down in the main salon for the computer whiz to dispose of as he saw fit.

The typewriter still sat out on the table, but the pile of letters and Nick were both gone.  A single piece of paper lay across the keys.

"Guys, I'm taking these credit cards to the main post office so they'll be posted tonight.  Later, Nick," Cody read aloud.

"Credit cards?"

"Oh, Nick must have gotten half a dozen or more of them from companies who heard about his, 'inheritance,'" Cody chuckled.

Murray carried the bags down to his room, then joined Cody on the deck of the _Riptide_.  Taking up a perch against the railing and folding his arms across his chest, he began slowly.  "Cody, are you going to let Nick buy his 'Vette back?"

"Huh?  Oh, yeah, sure… one of these days."

"What's this all about?  Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Treating Nick so cruelly."

Cody paused for a moment, the entire elaborate ploy Nick had going flashing through the blond's mind.  _I just wanted to pay the man back for taking the Riptide out without asking.  And for running her onto a jetty.  And for trying to get away with it without telling me what happened – that's what really ticked me off_.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, it seems to me that Nick made a pretty big sacrifice," Murray said.  "I mean, selling his car to pay for the damages to the _Riptide_ must've been hard on him.  You know how much he loves that car."

"He never should've taken the boat out alone."

"Cody, you're the one who's told us time and again we all own the _Riptide_ – that she's our home.  Isn't that true?  Didn't Nick have the right to take her out for a little fishing if this is his home?  We all can't have your talent with the sea, I mean, we all have our strengths and weaknesses, and you know how he gets when he's alone and there's nothing going on, and…"

Cody's brow furrowed.  Murray made it sound like he was purposefully hurting Nick.  _All I wanted to do was… was punish him_ , Cody acknowledged to himself.  _Oh, boy, I've been an idiot_.

"Look, you're right, Murray," he hastily interrupted before the speech evolved into a full-fledged sermon.  "I was really mad, and I guess I wanted to get even.  It was a stupid thing to do.  Hell, I'm surprised he didn't haul off and clobber me, come to think of it.  I couldn't say that I'd blame him."

"Well, I'm sure Nick realized that you were upset, but you planned to give him the pink slip.  You _did_ plan to do that, eventually, didn't you?"

"I think so.  But I think I'll give it back to him when he gets home, along with a full apology.  Thanks, Murray."

Bozinsky smiled.  Sometimes it was like negotiating with a couple of kids, but he wouldn't trade them for the world.  He giggled.  "Nick's expression must've been good, though, huh?"

"Oh, yeah, it was a classic!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Isn't Nick back yet?" Cody asked, reemerging into the salon after a shower.

Murray stared intently at the television, ignoring the blond's entrance.

"Whatcha watching?"

"Huh?  Oh, Cody, come watch this," Murray said, motioning to the screen.  "Someone's taken over a bus and he's shooting people.  It's just awful."

Cody slid into the bench seat next to Murray and watched as the reporter sketched the events as they were known.  In the background a City Trans bus sat along the curb, several windows shattered, blood staining the edges around one of them.  Police cars blocked off the street, but curious onlookers moved restlessly in the distance, watching.

"…So, at the present time nothing is known of the man who occupies City Trans number three.  He has not tried to negotiate, nor contact the authorities.  Thus far the police have kept their distance.  How many of the passengers remain alive is also unknown.  Apparently the events began about twenty minutes ago when several shots have been heard from the inside of the bus, but City Trans Three, one of the city's newest with tinted windows, makes it impossible for us to see what is happening…  This is Maria de la Pincho for channel four news…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick waited impatiently for the bus to arrive.  _Come on, come on_ , he thought.  _If I don't get these in the mail tonight I'm gonna need a loan just to pay for credit cards I can't afford to use!_

The latest addition to the city's rapid transit system rumbled to a stop and Nick boarded, taking a seat behind the driver so he could watch traffic through the front window.

"Why they call this rapid transit, I'll never know," he mumbled softly, drawing a smile from the two women facing him across the aisle.  The driver glared into the rearview mirror, but Nick didn't notice, his attention fixed on the envelopes in his lap.

The bus moved along the street, stopping every few blocks to allow passengers to board or exit.  Nick found himself unconsciously studying his fellow travelers.  A slow amazement developed at the number and diversity of people who came and left.  _Those "ride the bus" commercials must be working_ , he concluded.  _Another example of the power of the media at work_.

He smiled at the two women across from him.  In their early twenties, they were obviously college students, backpacks and textbooks resting on the cushioned bench beside them.  A nun sat in the first regular seat on the girl's side of the bus, in charge of three small children from one of the local Catholic schools.  Nick grinned at the pony-tailed little girls and they exchanged shy smiles, whispering excitedly to each other.  A pair of teenaged boys occupied the back of the bus, laughing and watching the co-eds with hormone-clouded vision while an elderly black man slept in a seat just up from Nick.  _The perfect prototype for Mr. Bojangles_ , the detective mused.

A young businessman rounded out the company, hiding behind his _Wall Street Journal_.

The brakes ground the bus to another halt, allowing three more people on.  One, a tall blond man, caught Nick's attention and he stood, launching into an interrogation. 

"Cody?  What're you doing here?  If you wrecked my car–"

The blond man spun around at the sound of a half-angry voice, shoving the older couple also boarding out of his way.  A 9mm fell into his hand from the sleeve of his jacket.

Nick froze, the gun resting lightly on his breastbone.  "Hey, easy, now, I didn't mean to startle you, mister.  I thought you were someone else."

The man's gaze jerked around the bus.  Several of the passengers were now standing, including the driver.

"All of you!  Sit down, now, or I'll blow this guy away!"  The passengers did as they were told.

"What's going on?" Nick asked carefully, trying to keep his voice even and calm.

The blond began rhythmically licking his lips, mumbling to himself.

"You want our wallets?" Nick asked, mistaking the man for a junkie.

"Shut up!"

"Okay, I'll shut up, I'll just sit down–"

"Don't move!"

Nick froze, but at least he was several inches away from the muzzle of the weapon.  It was a little room to maneuver, not much, but something.  _Why did this guy have to look like Cody?_ the detective thought as he watched the indecision play across the hijacker's features.

The man rubbed the back of his hand across his damp forehead and giggled softly.  Pale blue eyes flickered rapidly back and forth, unfocused, and Nick looked away before the motion disorientated him.

"Hey, fellah, we're blocking traffic here," the driver said slowly.  "Can I–?"

The man swung the gun away from Nick.  Centering it on the driver, he pulled the trigger, blood smearing the man's face as the bullet tore through, exiting to shatter the window behind him.

"Oh, Jesus," Nick breathed as several of the passengers screamed.  The detective could feel the fear breaking out as beads of sweat on his forehead and chest, and extending into dark tight coils in his gut.  He took a deep breath and commanded himself to stay calm.  _This guy's over the edge_.

The man swung the gun back toward the passengers.  "I wanna block traffic! I want to the whole damn city watching!"

"Watching what?" one of the co-eds asked softly.

The man grinned maniacally at her and her companion.  "Me, sweetheart, me… killing all of you."

Nick watched the gun move, coming around to center on the young woman.  "Hey, why're you doing this?" he asked.  "These people can't hurt you."

The gun stopped halfway between Nick and the girl.  "Because I want to, that's why," the man said, his vehemence as tangible as a slap.

Nick knew the man was going to kill her, he knew it as clearly as he had known that VC officer would kill him and Tony…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick and his co-pilot, Tony Romano, knelt in the tall, wet grass, their hands resting on their heads, as the VC officer circled slowly around them.

"Where were you going?" he asked again.

"The Bronx," Tony said.

The Vietnamese lashed out with a brutal kick to the abdomen that doubled the warrant officer over with a grunt. 

 _Damn it, Tony!_ Nick yelled silently.  _Keep that big mouth shut!_   Gritting his teeth, Nick forced himself to remain silent despite the brutality that came.

"I will know your target.  If you do not tell me, I will kill you," the officer screamed.  The men were both panting, flinching away whenever he raised his hands, but they weren't going to break.  Raising the gun, the officer held it inches from Tony's face.  "You will tell me the target now, or die."

"Fuck you," Tony snarled.

"No!" Nick yelled as the officer pulled the trigger.

Tony snapped back, disappearing into the grass.

Nick lurched to his feet, the world around him exploding with machine gun fire.  The Vietnamese officer and his four men hung, twitching in mid-air before they crumpled into the grass with Tony.  Nick stood, swaying slightly from side to side, unable to run or drop down for cover as the American's entered the clearing.

"Hey, you okay, man?" one of the grunts asked.

Nick blinked back the tears as he recognized the soldiers, and swallowed the bile that oozed into his throat.  "Yeah, fine," he said softly.

"Sorry we didn't get here a little sooner," the squad's lieutenant said.  "We saw your slick go down and thought you might need some help, but it was a long hump over here.  Was he a close friend?"

"My co-pilot…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick lunged at the same time the man moved, blocking the girls with his body.  He heard the gun discharge and felt the bullet as it tore through the back of his shoulder, lodging near his collarbone.  The force carried him forward, into their laps as the man began indiscriminately firing throughout the bus.

The old black man slumped forward, dead.  The others passengers scrambled for what cover they could find.  The shooting lasted until the clip was empty, and the hijacker reloaded to the sounds of crying and the stench of blood.

The girls carefully helped Nick into a seated position, one stripping off the bandanna from around her neck and pressing it to the shoulder wound to staunch the blood.  She tried to smile as she whispered, "Thanks."

Nick nodded, patting her on the leg.

The blond panted with excitement as he cocked a round into the chamber of the weapon.  He giggled, looking around at the passengers now frozen in their seats.  Slowly he moved down the aisle, looking at the damage.  The young businessman moaned slightly, and with a smile, the hijacker carefully squeezed off a round into the man's chest.  When he reached the end of the bus he saw the two boys.

"Get up!" the hijacker screamed.

The two climbed slowly to their feet.

"Up front!"

The pair stepped into the aisle and started toward the front of the bus.  As they passed the door halfway down the bus's structure, one of the boys bolted, trying to push past the automatic doors as the man brought the gun up and shot him in the back. The force of the bullet carried him out onto the street where he lay, unmoving.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"…Oh, my…  Oh, no, a young man has just been shot.  It looked like he was attempting to escape, but he's not moving.  Two officers are moving up to pull him away.  We'll give you a report on his condition as soon as we can find out what it is. The police are still not moving on the bus.  There is no way to tell how many passengers there are and how many are still alive…"

Murray watched with a growing horror on his face.  "He's just a boy," he whispered.

"Why aren't the police doing something?" Cody asked.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Lieutenant, there appear to be ten people alive in there."

Lieutenant Parisi sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes.  It was all so senseless. David Frederick had lost his wife and son earlier in the year when their 1977 Honda was struck by a City Trans bus.  The bus driver tested positive for cocaine.  Why it took him this long to explode was a mystery to the lieutenant, that it had to happen at all was a tragedy.

"Do we know who they are?"

"Two young women, a nun with three little girls, a young boy, a guy who's been shot and two others we can't get a clear look at through the front window, even with the scope.  I think it's a couple of old ladies, though."

"All right, has the SWAT team arrived?"

"Their ETA is three minutes.  There's a pileup on Sepulveda that's slowing them down."

"Have them come in quietly and park away from the scene.  I don't want the press getting wind of this too fast; he might be listening."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The man rocked slightly from side to side, laughing occasionally and watching the terrified faces of the remaining passengers as their gazes followed his every move.

Nick carefully checked his watch, amazed that only twenty minutes had passed since the man entered the bus.  _The police must be out there by now_ , he thought.  _Wonder if they'll try talking to him, or just send in the troops_.  Nick shook his head slightly.  It was a no-win game; the man was beyond reasoning with, but if they tried storming the bus, someone was going to get killed.

Most of the passengers sat perfectly still, crying.  The blond liked that.  Without warning, he raised the gun and squeezed off two rounds.  Nick jumped like the rest of the passengers at the sound of the gun, but he refused to cower.  If he was going to die, it wasn't going to be while hiding behind a bus seat.

He was rapidly running out of patience as anger and fear warred for control of his emotions.  The detective forced himself to remain motionless as he said softly, "Why are you doing this?  These people haven't done anything to you."

"How would you know?  You don't care.  Besides, I like it, man.  It gives me a thrill, you know, makes my blood hot."

"He's crazy," the second co-ed breathed.

"Crazy?" the man exploded, waving the gun at Nick and the two girls.  "Crazy?  No, no, I'm not crazy!  You think I'm sick don't you, well I'm not!  I'm not crazy, you hear that, bitch!  You killed Mary, all of you, you killed her and Josh!"

"You are crazy, man!" the second teenage boy screamed at him.

The hijacker froze, turning his attention from the young woman to the boy.

Nick lunged out of the seat, grabbing the man's arm before he could get the gun up.  "Come on, man, please, they're just scared!"

The pair grappled for a moment before the hijacker could push the injured detective away.  "Die!  You're all gonna die for what you did!  You hear me?  I'm gonna kill all of you!"

"No!" Nick yelled, charging the man again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"…Where did they come from?  Uh, a police SWAT team is closing on the bus…  They're entering the vehicle now…  Oh no, there are shots coming from the inside, we can't see anything…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick's yell momentarily drew the hijacker's attention away from the passengers and he prepared to fire on Nick again as the two sets of doors folded in and police officers bounded into the bus.  A wave of panic washed over the detective as the world seemed to explode around him, forcing him back into the Asian jungles again.  The enclosed space of the bus shrank in on Nick as time and movement slowed to a mocking, distorted twisting of sound and motion.

The detective watched as the hijacker was hit.  Eyes opening unnaturally wide he focused on the nun and the three crying children.  "God?  There's no God you bitch!"

It didn't take a trained detective to see the hate in the man's pale blue eyes, the desire to kill as he himself died.  Without thinking Nick stepped in front of the nun and the little girls as the officers fired again, in tandem with the assailant.

 _I'm going to die_ , Nick thought as he felt the slug enter his midsection.  An explosion of pain in the small of his back caused him to double over and he collapsed to the floor of the bus as the hijacker writhed and screamed nearby in his own death throes.

_I never thought it would be like this.  We were goin' out together, remember? Damn it, Cody, where were you?_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"…The police are now exiting the bus with the remaining passengers.  This must have been an unimaginable nightmare for those people.  We'll keep you up to date with this story as we can get further details…"

"Thank God," Murray said as he watched the nun and the three children herded off and away from the reporters, who pressed up against the hastily erected barricades.

"Wounded?" the lieutenant asked as she walked up to the side of the bus.

"One, inside.  The paramedics are with him now, but it looks bad.  They'll be bringing him out any time.  It's a damn miracle only two were killed.  By the way, the boy's going to make it."

Joanna watched as two paramedics carried a stretcher off the bullet-riddled bus.  She gasped as she caught sight of the man's pale face, etched with pain.  "Nick?" she whispered.  "Oh, dear, God."

"Move," one of the medics said to his partner, "his pulse is getting weaker."

"Lieutenant," a second officer called, jogging up to join them as she watched them carry Nick into the waiting ambulance.  "The captain wants you to take statements from the passengers at Torrance Central Hospital."

She nodded.  "Fine, but I want you to go with that ambulance.  Call me and let me know where they are and how he is."

"Lieutenant?"

"That's a friend of mine, now, go."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Cody turned the sound down as the station resumed its regular broadcast.  "Can you believe it?"

Murray shook his head.  "It's like that guy down by San Diego, the one who opened fire in the McDonald's.  Why would someone do that?"

"I don't know, Murray."

The pair had sat in silence for nearly half an hour when the phone rang.  Cody slid off the bench to grab it.  "Riptide Detective Agency, how can we help you?"

"Cody?"

"Lieutenant?" he said, a growing sense of trepidation filling his voice.  "What's wrong?"

"It's Nick.  He's at Torrance Central.  I think you and Murray should come right over.  I don't have any details yet, but I'll meet you there."

"We'll be right there."  He hung up and headed topside, Murray right behind him, clamoring for answers.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Joanna met the detectives as they entered the lobby of the large hospital, the concerned expression on her face halting both men.

"How is he?" Cody asked, his voice catching.

"I don't know; he's in surgery.  Look, can we go sit down so I can explain?"

"Sure, Lieutenant," Murray said.  She was more upset than he anticipated and it frightened him.

They allowed her to guide them to a waiting room and she settled into a chair and waited until they did the same before beginning.  "Did you see the news story about the City Trans bus that was hijacked?"

They both nodded.

She took her time to fill them in on the details surrounding David Frederick, then continued.  "Nick was there.  He was shot."

The pair exchanged glances and Murray could see the guilt rising to fill Cody's eyes.

"I've been here with the other nine passengers for the last half-hour.  I wanted you to know that Nick's a real hero according to those people."

Cody shuddered, the memory of Nick standing at the switch for the Howard security gate, his arms outspread and a smile on his face.  "Am I a hero, or what?" he'd laughed.  At that point, Cody was ready to deck the man, but now…

"…He saved those people's lives, but in the process, he was shot twice.  The paramedics were on the scene and moved him as quickly as they could.  He went straight into surgery…"  She looked up at the clock that hung on the otherwise bare off-white walls.  "…I'm sorry about the delay, but I wanted to call you myself.  I thought it would be better than a stranger."

"We appreciate that, don't we, Cody?" Murray asked, watching Cody retreat further into his guilt.

"Huh?  Yeah.  Yes, thank you, Lieutenant."

"Look, I have to go finish with these interviews, but I'll be back.  If. . ."  She paused, took a deep breath and finished.  "If you hear anything, please have me paged or give me a call later at the station."

"We will," Murray assured her.  "Thank you again."

She stood and gave Cody a last, worried look before she turned and left the two men alone.  She couldn't remember ever having seen such an expression on the blond man's face.  Whatever Cody was dealing with, it went far beyond Nick's getting shot.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Cody watched her leave before he turned to Murray.  "It's my fault, Murray.  If I hadn't been taunting him about the car this wouldn't have happened."

"Cody, you can't blame yourself.  It was a random attack.  It could've happened to anyone."

"But it happened to Nick!" the blond snapped back.  "Look, I'm sorry… I–"

"I know, Cody, I'm scared, too."

"I'm going to see if I can find a nurse or someone who can tell me something, okay?"

"Yeah.  I'll stay here in case the doctors finish."

"Thanks," Cody said.

Murray nodded and waved him away.  _Nick has to come through this_ , the thin detective thought.  _Cody will never be able to live with himself if anything happens.  You have to pull through, Nick, for Cody_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Cody headed over to the nurse's station and waited until a young woman in a blue jumpsuit returned.  "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yeah, I hope so.  A friend of mine was brought in a little while ago.  He's in surgery and I was–"

"The man from the bus?"

Cody nodded.

"Wow, I heard a little about what he did for those people.  Look, I don't know much.  He was taken straight to the ER and then up to surgery.  Let me call and see if someone can give me a few details.  I'll come get you when I find out anything, but there might not be any news.  It hasn't been very long."

"Thanks, anything would help," he said, turning to find his way back to the waiting room.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Two hours later Cody was prowling the corridors again, looking for the nurse, hoping she could tell him more about Nick than she had earlier.  As he stood at the empty nurses station, two young women shyly approached.

"Excuse me, are you a friend of Nick Ryder's?"

"Yes, yes, I am," Cody said, wondering who they were.  Random spots of blood on one girl's shirt caught his attention and he realized they were survivors from City Trans three.

"My name's Cathy Peters and this is my roommate, Lisa Mahor.  Your friend saved our lives today on that bus.  We wanted to know if he's going to be all right."

Cody studied their faces, their eyes shadowed in a way inconsistent with their youth.  "Yeah, he's going to be fine," he said, trying to keep his voice even and upbeat.

"I'm so glad," Lisa breathed.

"Me, too.  Maybe when he's up to it we'll stop by for a visit?" Cathy asked, seeing through Cody's front.

 _I must be losing my touch_ , he thought as he nodded.  "I think Nick would like that, thanks."

They smiled nervously and moved away.  Cody rubbed the back of his neck and prayed silently that they would get that chance.  Watching Cathy reach out and wrap a protective arm around Lisa's shoulders sent a rush of longing though the detective. 

 _I better get back to Murray_ , he thought.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Pausing at the coffee machine, Cody jabbed in the necessary change and pressed the wrong button.  Taking a sip, he cursed under his breath and tossed the remainder away.  A familiar voice calling his name caught him as he stepped away.  He turned to find Dr. Ameila Poe walking down the hall.

"I've been looking for you," she said, her faint Asian accent soothing.  "I heard about Nick.  How are you and Murray doing?"

"Okay, I guess.  Do you have any news?"

"Why don't we go get Murray so I only have to explain this once.  He is here, isn't he?"

Cody nodded, leading the older Oriental woman back to the waiting room where she took over, guiding them to her office.  After pouring three cups of tea, she settled herself on the edge of her desk and began.  "Nick is out of surgery–"

"Thank, goodness," Murray said, interrupting.

"He's being moved to ICU.  We don't know how long he'll have to stay there.  Right now he's on partial life-support.  Now, before you panic, let me explain.  One of the injuries was rather severe, and it's not unusual to use a respirator to help Nick handle the load until he's stronger.  He was shot twice, once in the shoulder, nothing to be overly concerned about.  A few weeks to allow it to heal and then some time in physical therapy to work it back into shape."

"The other?" Cody asked, dreading the answer.

"The other was a direct shot to the abdomen from close range.  The surgeon was able to repair the damage to the intestinal track and, luckily, there were no other vital organs involved–"  Her soft Oriental accent sounded more reserved than normal.

"But?" Cody pressed.  He knew there was more.  Why was she holding back?

"But, the bullet lodged very near Nick's spine.  The surgeon was unable to remove it at this time.  The neurologist thought it would be better to let Nick get stronger and to allow for the swelling around the spinal column to subside before they tried an extraction.  That surgery will not be simple, nor quick.  As a consequence, Nick is being kept in a trauma bed, one designed for spinal injuries.  It will keep him fully immobile.  I wanted to warn you, so don't worry too much when you see him, it looks worse than it is.  We just don't want him moving while he's unconscious and doing more damage to himself."

"How dangerous is this?" Murray asked, his mind racing with the implication of such an injury on the human nervous system.

"If the bullet should shift it could conceivably do severe or permanent damage to the nerves coming off the spinal column at that point.  However, that damage might have already occurred.  We won't be able to make that determination until he is fully conscious and the neurologist can do a full work up."

"What are you trying to say, Amelia?" Cody asked.

"From Doctor Lynn's preliminary examination, it appears that Nick is presently paralyzed from the injury site down.  We don't know the extent of that paralysis, nor do we know if it is permanent or not.  We'll just have to wait for those answers.  There is some response to deep pain stimuli, but nothing with the surface stimulation."

"When can we see him?"

"Not until tomorrow, I'm afraid.  He's going to be in recovery for a couple of hours and then we'll need to get him into ICU.  He'll be too weak for anything for at least twenty-four hours, maybe forty-eight.  I don't think he'll regain consciousness before then.  Why don't the two of you go home?  You don't look up to a visit at this point, yourselves.  I'll call you as soon as you can see him or if there are any changes."

Murray nodded and stood.  He waited for Cody to pull himself out of the chair. The thin detective knew his partner didn't want to leave without seeing Nick, and neither did Murray, but Dr. Poe had seen them through a rough session where they had nearly lost the dark-haired man.  If she said they had to wait, they had to wait.  Besides, Cody didn't look up to seeing Nick.  Maybe tomorrow.

"Come on, Cody," Murray said, placing a steadying hand on the blond's elbow and feeling the older man lean into that support.

"I, uh, I should call Joanna," he said.  "Maybe she's still here."

"Use my phone," Dr. Poe told him.  "Murray and I will wait outside."

Murray shut the door as the blond picked up the phone.  "Murray," she said.  "What's wrong with Cody?"

Murray shuffled uncomfortably as he told her about the _Riptide_ , the Howard case and the car.  "…So, I think he's feeling very guilty right now," he concluded.

"I think you're right.  Let him work this through alone if he wants to.  However, if he drops into a deeper depression, or refuses to release the guilt, I want you to tell me about it.  I know how close they are, even if they won't admit it.  This will be as hard on Cody as it will be on Nick."  She reached out and carefully pushed one of the many pencils back into the detective's pocket form where it had nearly worked itself free.  "I'm glad they have you there to be their friend.  They'll need you, too, Murray."

The thin detective blushed a deep red at the words.  "Thank you," he told her. "I'll do whatever I can."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Although Nick was still on the respirator and had not regained consciousness, the pair was allowed in to see him the next day.  Cody stood alongside the bed, staring at the unconscious man and trying to deny the feeling of guilt that threatened to overwhelm him.  He was only able to remain in the small room for a few minutes before he fled, rubbing at the tears that burned, unshed, in his eyes.

Murray found Cody wandering around the inner courtyard of the hospital.  Remembering Dr. Poe's suggestion, Murray headed off to sit with Nick, rather than disturb the blond detective.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The two detectives sat at the kitchen table, both pushing the majority of their TV dinners around on the tray.  Forty-eight hours had passed since Nick went into ICU, but there had been no improvement.  Cody nearly lurched out of the booth when the cellular phone near the sink rang.

He grabbed it up, asking, "Yeah?"

"Cody, this is Doctor Poe," came the soft Oriental voice.  "I know this is a little unusual, given the hour, but Nick's off life support, he's conscious, and he's asking for you and Murray.  I think it would help him if you could come over for a few minutes."

"We're on the way."  He sat the phone down with the first smile Murray had seen in two days.  "Nick's off life support and awake.  He wants to see us."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick closed his eyes, trying to ignore the burning pain in his lower back that left his stomach unsettled.  The bed they had him in did nothing to ease the discomfort, although he was strapped in at various angels and surrounded by rolls of padded material that kept him from moving anything other than his fingers and eyelids.  After a short while he started to feel that he was packaged for shipping.

The door opened and Nick forced his eyes open.  "Cody?" he said, his voice rough and scratchy.

The steps Cody took to the bedside were physically painful.  It hadn't looked this bad when Nick was unconscious, but now with him awake and hurting, strapped immobile into the bed…  The blond detective shuddered, the whole thing reminding him of something out of the Inquisition.

"Look that bad?" Nick whispered, watching his partner pale.

"I'm sorry, buddy, really," Cody said, reaching out to take Nick's hand in his own.  He gave it a supportive squeeze and was surprised to feel an answering, almost desperate clutch.  Nick was scared.  _I can't blame him_ , Cody thought.  _I am, too_.

Surprised by his partner's demonstrative move, Nick was nevertheless grateful to have him there, finally.  The last time their positions had been reversed and it was Nick who had reached out to show Cody his support.

"Guess I really messed up this time, huh?"

"I hear you're some kind of hero," Cody said, trying to keep his voice light.

"A hero, huh?  I don't think so.  Heroes aren't this scared.  Besides, aren't they supposed to have special powers so this kind of thing doesn't happen?"

"It's going to be all right.  Doctor Poe said they're just waiting for you to get a little stronger before they go in and get the slug out, then you'll be fine."

"You're a lousy liar, you know that?"

Cody smiled, but looked away.  Nick never made anything easy.  "Look, I wanted to tell you, I have a get well present for you.  Call it incentive for you to get outta here soon."

"Oh, yeah?" Nick said, smiling slightly.  "Postage?"

"Huh?" Cody asked, but Nick closed his eyes as a dismissal of the private joke.  "I've got the 'Vette's pink slip for you.  I'm really sorry I acted like an idiot about that, buddy.  It was just that I was so mad about the _Riptide_.  You know how crazy I can get about the boat…"  He trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

"I don't want the car," Nick said softly.

"You don't?  But I–"

"Naw, you can have the car.  I want the boat."

"The boat?" Cody echoed, unprepared for the comment.  "You want my boat?"  He stopped when he saw the small smile spreading across the dark-haired man's face.  "You almost had me going there for a minute, didn't you?"

Nick smiled.  "Thanks, for coming, Cody.  Doctor Poe said it was late.  I just needed a familiar face, you know?"

Cody squeezed his partner's hand again.  "Yeah, I do."  The grip tightened in his hand as Nick gasped, then groaned, fighting out a wave of agony that rolled out of his lower back to engulf his consciousness.  The various monitors beeped more rapidly and Cody felt his own fear and panic being to rise.  "Hang on, buddy, and you can have the damn boat," he whispered as Nick finally relaxed, laying quietly, his eyes shut.

"I'll remember that," was the barely audible reply.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Cody prowled around Dr. Poe's office while Murray sat quietly in one of the overstuffed leather chairs, trying to remain calm in the face of his partner's agitation.  Nick had been in surgery for three hours, the doctors deciding that morning that the detective was strong enough to undergo the delicate operation.  Neither of them expected it to take so long, despite Dr. Poe's warning.

Finally tiring, Cody sunk into a second, matching chair, and took up a silent vigil along with Murray.

The pair jumped in unison when Dr. Poe swept into the room an hour later, several file folders shoved under her arm.  "I'm sorry if I startled you," she said.

"That's fine, how is he?" Cody said.

"Good.  He's in recovery.  They were able to remove the slug without too much difficulty, actually."

"But it took so long," Murray said.

"True, but they had to go very slowly to ensure that they did not damage any nerves.  There is a lingering paralysis, but the road is open now, however, for physical therapy.  When the spinal column receives this sort of trauma the lingering side-effects can range from none, to a complete paralysis.  We just don't know all the factors that come together to create a specific result.  There are pain reflexes however, so Nick has regained some feeling in his legs."  She studied their sullen faces and added, "That is a good sign, gentlemen."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Cody touched his partner's blanket-draped leg and watched Nick's eyes open in response.  "Hey ya, buddy, how you doing today?"

"Better," Nick said, his voice still thick with sleep.  "All the feeling's back, but I still can't do anymore than twitch my toes."

"Give it time.  Doctor Poe said you're doing better than they expected.  It's only been a few days since they got that slug out, you know."

"Yeah, well, it's not better than I expected," Nick grumbled.  "They're turning me lose in the wheelchair today, though.  Guess that's something."

"Betcha they told all the nurses to be on the lookout now that you're going to be mobile," Cody teased.

Nick smiled thinly.  "I guess so."  He seemed to brighten.  "Who knows, maybe Murray can come up with a turbo thruster gizmo for the chair.  So long as I don't let him drive the thing it should be safe enough."

"Uh, Nick, there are a few people who would like to see you, if you're up to it. They're up on the terrace.  I'll push."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Cody watched Nick's knuckles whiten under his grip on the arms of the wheel-chair when they joined the other nine survivors from City Trans Three.  The two co-eds had arranged the get together, but all of the passengers had been more than happy to attend.  Cody wheeled Nick up to the small folding table that was decorated with get well cards, gifts, and treats.

Stepping back, he watched from a distance as each of the people thanked the dark-haired detective for his heroic actions.  His favorite was the three little girls, each of whom vied for Nick's full attention when they held out the murals they had made for the injured man.  The sister smiled indulgently, then had them leave their gifts and allow the other adults to speak to the man.

It was nice to see Nick smile again, but Cody wondered how much of it was an act, put on to ease the guilt these people felt at having survived, unhurt.  _Still, Nick does genuinely care about people_ , Cody argued with himself.  _Maybe you're reading your own problems onto these people_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The paralysis lingered, although Nick's overall recovery continued rapidly.  The adjustment to a wheelchair-bound existence was one the detective made alone, refusing to do other than joke with Cody and Murray when they dropped by for their regular visits.  The thought that he might be spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair weighed heavily on the man, but he could not find sufficient reasons to burden the other two with his fears.  It was hard enough on Cody, who still felt responsible, despite what he admitted.

The outward acceptance did not convince the blond detective, however.  He could read the closed expression on his partner's face.  Nick never could keep the truth out of his eyes, no matter how big the smile was on his face.

Finally the situation came down to a matter of time, physical therapy, and hope.  At first Nick refused to go back to the _Riptide_ , insisting he either stay in the hospital or get an apartment nearby, since the logistics of a wheelchair-bound individual on a small boat was more than even Murray would be able to negotiate with his gadgets.  It took Dr. Poe nearly a week, but she finally managed to talk Nick into going home.

"Look, Nick, go back for a while, just a week, say," she negotiated.  "Cody and Murray converted the salon into a room for you.  You can get around in there and I think being home will help.  If it is too much, then you get a place nearby.  They need you home, too, you know, before they can feel like all this is finally coming to an end."

"Is it?" Nick asked, too quickly.

"Nick, what's wrong?"

"Look, I don't know.  I just don't feel right about it.  I mean, I don't want them to have to take care of me, you know?"

"Nick, they want to help.  They need to help.  Please, just a week.  Give it time, time to get better, or time to adjust."  He nodded and she gave him a hug.

"And please, let them help, too, okay?"

He nodded again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick looked around the main salon, now converted into quarters for him. 

"Well, what do you think?" Murray asked, his excitement at having Nick home as plain as a child's.

"I still think it'd be easier if I got an apartment someplace, but I have to admit, it's damn good to be home."

"Wait until you see what I came up with," Murray twittered, disappearing down the stairs.

"What did he do?"

"Wait a minute," Cody said, unwilling to spoil Murray's surprise.

After a series of clangs and several grunts the thin detective emerged carrying what looked like a wheelchair without arms, but it was considerable smaller than the one Nick currently rested in.

"Isn't this boss?  I made a smaller version, but it has all the maneuverability that that chair has.  It'll let you move around here easier."

Nick shook his head and sighed.  "Guess you guys thought of everything, huh?"

"We tried," Cody said softly.  "Welcome home, Nick."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The threesome worked to get Nick settled into his new accommodations, then maneuvered him and the full-sized wheelchair out to Pier 56 so they could get some dinner and watch the sunset.  Cody pushed while Murray explained his idea about creating a hydraulic lift mechanism that would allow Nick to get up and down the stairs in the smaller "boat chair," as Murray had christened it.

"Look, guys," Nick said finally.  "I know you want to help and all, and I appreciate it, but I also want to learn to do everything I can on my own.  I realize I'm going to need some help for a while, but please understand that I plan on getting as self-sufficient as I can, okay?"

"Sure, Nick," Murray said.  "We just want to make it as easy as we can."

"That's right," Cody agreed.  "Just let us know when you want us to back off."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Three weeks; three weeks, Murray and he's withdrawing more and more.  I think it's time I go talk to Doctor Poe."

Murray watched the blond detective with a growing concern.  While it was true that Nick had grown progressively more withdrawn over the last couple of weeks, Cody's mood had deteriorated right along with it.  It was clear to the computer whiz that Cody still felt responsible for his friend's disability.  It was a no-win situation.  The more self-sufficient Nick became the less Cody could do to assuage his guilt, but when Nick needed help, the guilty feeling swelled.  Murray nodded.  He'd call ahead and maybe the doctor could help Cody as well.

"I think you're right," he told the blond.

"I'll go see her tomorrow morning."

Cody forced himself out of the booth and left Murray alone in the kitchen to finish drying dishes.  He dreaded the climb to the salon where he knew Nick would be, trying to watch television or read a book, but essentially waiting for sleep to overcome the boredom and hopelessness that was building in the dark-haired detective.  _Every day Nick pushes himself all over Pier 56 and God-knows-where_ , Cody thought.  _Then he comes back here, exhausted and tries to sleep_.  Gauging from the tossing and sighs it was pretty clear that physical exertion alone was not enough to still the mental agitation and allow the man to sleep.

Cody tried to smile as he entered the salon-become-bedroom, the effort quickly fading as he saw what his partner was doing.  Nick sat in the boat chair, cleaning his .45 Baretta.

"Whatcha doing?" Cody asked as casually as he could.

"I just thought I should clean this thing before it started to rust."

Cody nodded, pushing down the fear as best he could.  "Nick, I was thinking of turning in early; do you think you could–"

"I'll be fine, Cody, really.  Go on and go to bed if you want to.  I've been practicing getting in and out of this thing alone and I've got the hang of it."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, go on.  You look like you could use a little extra sleep."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Cody lay on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the muted efforts of his best friend as he tried to maneuver himself into his bunk.  Every few minutes Cody sat up, prepared to go up and help, but each time he knew it would only upset Nick more if he did, so the blond forced himself to let Nick struggle though the procedure alone.

When the _Riptide_ fell silent Cody realized that he'd started crying.  It took a concerted effort to ignore the swelling pain that pressed out from his chest as he wiped the tears off his face.  Closing his eyes, the blond detective let the soft sound of the tide lapping against the side of the boat lull him to sleep.

The restless sleep lasted three hours, then Cody found himself wide-awake and staring at the ceiling again.  Deciding that it was time to get up and get drunk or spend the rest of the night counting sheep, he pushed himself out of the bunk and headed for the galley.  Nick was sleeping when Cody checked on him, hoping he'd be up so they could talk.  There was something easier about talking in the dark.  Taking a deep breath, Cody left Nick and proceeded to the galley and poured himself a stiff shot, draining it in a single gulp.

A muffled cry from the salon caught him by surprise and he tossed down a second drink before he started up the stairs to see what was wrong.

Nick's head tossed restlessly from side to side and Cody could make out the sweat-drenched feature in the stray rays of light bouncing in the windows from the Pier. He watched Nick grind his eyes shut and shudder.  The shuddering quickly became shaking as the dark-haired detective's entire body tensed.

A second moan filled the room and Cody watched Nick bite down on his lip to still the sound.  He was awake.

"Nick?"

The man's eyes flew open at the sound of his name.  The pain in their depths was plainly visible even in the darkened room and Cody felt himself involuntarily drawn to the edge of the bunk.

"Hey, buddy, what's wrong?  Are you okay?"

Nick looked up at his friend and tried to speak, but the burning pain in his back made it impossible.  He shook his head as a second wave of shaking rattled the bunk.

Cody watched the man's muscles contract into one huge cramp, the force drawing Nick's legs and shoulders up off the bed.  He sat down behind his partner, slipping his arms around Nick's shoulders.  He could feel the muscles across the detective's shoulders cording into knots and tried to massage out some of the tension.  The cramping lasted several minutes, then the muscles finally relaxed.

Nick reached up, clinging to Cody's arm while the blond tried to rub out some of the remaining spasms, while at the same time allowing Nick to lean back into him for support.

"How long has this been going on?"

"About a week," Nick said weakly, the event having nearly exhausted him.

It felt good to have Cody there.  The attacks had gotten progressively stronger over the last few hours, then began to slack off.  Still, the intensity and burning pain was enough to frighten the man.

"No wonder you look like you haven't been sleeping.  I thought you were overdoing it during the day."

"No, that's the only way I can work out the soreness and stiffness.  I have to keep moving.  If I sit still for too long this happens."

Cody continued to rub Nick's shoulders and upper arms even after the dark-haired man had lapsed into silence.  "Have you told Doctor Poe?"

Nick shook his head, nearly asleep in the safety of his partner's arms.

"Why not?" Cody asked.

"I was hopin' it was a good sign," he slurred.

"Good?  Damn it, Nick, it looked like you were going to die!"  Cody snapped, bringing Nick wide-awake.

"Yeah, well, maybe that would be okay, too."

Cody's fingers froze.  "Don't say that."

"Look, I was just joking," the detective said with a weak laugh that had Cody wondering whether he was or not.  "Hey, I appreciate what you're doing, man, but this usually only happens once a night, and I'd like to try and get a little more sleep."

Reluctantly, Cody lowered Nick back onto the bed and pulled the single cover up over his shoulders.  "If that happens again, call me," he told the injured man.

Nick nodded and watched his partner disappear down the stairs.  _Let the guilt go, Cody.  Let it go.  It's eating you up, but it's taking me with it_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Cody watched Dr. Poe's brow furrow.  "I do not like it, Cody.  I have to be honest with you."

"Is it dangerous?"

"I don't know.  I've never run across a reaction like this.  I'm afraid that if I approach Nick on it he'll feel you betrayed him and pull away even further.  Watch him, try and find out how often it happens.  Do his legs move?  The physical therapist noted he can move his toes, but hasn't been able to get beyond that."

Cody studied the woman's black eyes.  She had seen them though so much, and he needed to tell someone…  "He's made a few subtle references to suicide."

"Oh, dear.  I think it might be a good idea if I had someone talk to Nick."

"Another psychiatrist?"

"No, someone who'll understand what he's been though.  Someone who can talk the language of Nick's pain better than we can."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Nick?" Cody yelled when he and Murray returned to the _Riptide_ and found the ramp they had constructed set up and the salon empty.  A cold fear swelled in the detective's stomach.

"Where would he go?" Murray asked.

"I don't know.  How'd he get off the boat alone?"

Murray shrugged, the extreme agitation Cody showed unsettling the man.  "Maybe we should go look for him."

Cody nodded, heading back out.  They split up, Murray looking along the pier, Cody wandering down toward the pretzel stand and shops.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Hey, Dooley!" Cody called when he spotted the young man talking to a very young, very tanned girl in a tiny black bikini.

The boy smiled and waved, jogging over to join Cody.  "How's it goin'?"

"Not so great at the moment.  Murray and I are trying to find Nick.  You haven't seen him, have you?"

"Sure.  I stopped by the _Riptide_ and he asked if I'd help get him up on the pier.  He said he had some things he needed to get done."

"Did he have his gun with him?"

Dooley frowned.  "I don't think so, I mean, why would he?  You guys working on a case here at Pier 56?"

Cody shook his head.  "Did you know where he went?"

"Naw, I had to get back to the McDonald's boat and get the green slime off of–"

"Dooley, I'm afraid to even think about it right now, okay?"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick sat at the end of the loading pier that jutted out parallel to the beach.  The wind blew the hair across his face, but he made no effort to push it away.  He watched as the sun sank lower in the darkening clear sky, nearly touching the horizon.

 _Three hours.  Time to make a decision, Ryder_ , he thought to himself.  _Much longer and Cody and Murray will show up and the options will get too messy to think about_.

The tide swelled slowly, lapping against the pylons below him.  Rolling the chair closer to the edge of the weathered planks, Nick stopped when he could look down at the equally darkening water.  _It would be so easy . . . How long could I stay afloat with just my arms–?_

"Nick?"

 _Oh, damn_.

Cody watched his friend's shoulders droop.  "Hey, buddy, whatcha doing?  Murray and I were starting to get a little worried."

Nick realized the understatement that the comment represented.  "Just watching the sunset, that's all."

Cody walked up to join the dark-haired detective, fighting the trembling that made it hard for him to walk.  A few minutes longer and he might have been too late.  It was much worse than he thought.  "Nice one, isn't it."

"Yeah."  The word held no appreciation, no enthusiasm.

"You want a push back to the boat?  Murray and I thought we could go over to Staightaway's for dinner."

"No, thanks, but you can head back.  I'll be along later."

 _Now what do I do?!_   Cody shuffled uncomfortably.  _There's no way I'm leaving him out here alone_.  "Oh, I don't mind waiting."

"Look, it's okay, really.  Go on back."

"Uh, Nick, I can't leave you out here."

Nick grabbed the wheels and swung the chair around to face his best friend.  "Why not, man?  You afraid I might do something stupid?"

"Yeah, I am," the blond admitted, his voice barely clearing a whisper.  He stepped up to the chair and sank down into a crouch.  Looking into the dark blue eyes that were clouded with despair, Cody reached out and rested his hands on Nick's forearms.  "Come back to the boat with me, Nick, please."

Nick continued to stare into his lap, unable to meet the pleading look he knew would be in the man's eyes.  "Why, Cody?  Damn it, this just isn't going to work."

"Why?"

Nick's head snapped up.  "Because, what am I going to do!  If I was like Murray I'd still be useful.  You don't have to walk to work a computer, but I fly, Cody, I work the streets, how that hell am I supposed to do that if I can't walk!  How can I be there for you guys, if you need me?  How the hell am I supposed to fit in?  What the hell can I give you like this?"

"That's not the point!"

"The hell it isn't, man!"

Cody pushed himself to his feet.  "It isn't, Nick.  Look, what matters is that Murray and I care about you, damn it.  That has to count for something, or what in the hell have we been doing all these years?"

Nick rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.  "I know that, okay?  I know.  But that doesn't explain what I'm going to do.  I can't just sit on the _Riptide_ ; I'm already starting to go stir crazy!  I'll end up a burden on you two and sooner or later we'll all say things we don't mean.  I just don't want to spend the rest of my life selling light bulbs over the phone, or something like that.  I'd rather just get it over with.  Can't you understand?"

Cody rested his hands on his hips and watched his partner spin the chair around again, staring out at the rapidly disappearing sunlight.  "I can't walk away, Nick.  I just can't.  I'm sorry."

Nick nodded and Cody watched as the shoulders began to shake silently.  The realization that Nick was crying staggered Cody.  After watching him joke himself through his time in the hospital, this outpouring of despair and hopelessness was unexpected.  Although, Cody realized, if he'd admit it, he had watched it build to this over the last few weeks.  Stepping up behind the wheelchair, he reached out and encircled his partner's shoulders, holding Nick tightly.

The silent crying took on a new intensity and Nick reached up, holding onto the blond's arms, clinging to him with the desperation of a man too close to the edge.

Cody rested his forehead on the top of Nick's head, letting his feelings flow freely in a stream of uncensored comments he hoped would give his best friend an anchor to hold him in this world.  "I couldn't make it, Nick.  If you– I just couldn't.  I still blame myself.  I can't help it.  Please, please, hang in there.  It'll work out.  It has to."

Nick shut his eyes and let some of the anger and frustration drain out with his tears.  _I can't do this to Cody.  I can't, but what am I going to do?_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick rolled down the pier, heading for the _Mimi_.  There was a buyer arriving to look at the helicopter, and although he hated the thought of selling the craft, he couldn't see a better option.  Murray and Cody had spent the last two days trying to talk him out of selling the comic pink craft, and they damn near succeeded.

_All I need is an excuse not to show, any excuse…_

"Hey!  Watch it, buddy!"

Nick grabbed the wheels of his chair, jerking to an abrupt stop.  Across the sidewalk another wheelchair-bound man sat, smiling at the detective.  "I don't know where you're going, friend, but you're going to run some poor unsuspecting biped down if you keep that up."

Nick found himself grinning despite himself.  The new arrival smiled back and shoved a wayward strand of gray-brown

hair off his forehead with his hand.  Once that was accomplished he rolled forward and extended a hand.  "My name's John Storie."

"Nick Ryder."

"Well, Nick, I'm real sorry about yellin' at you like that."

"That's okay, I deserved it.  I wasn't paying attention that's for sure."

"Lot on your mind, huh?" the older man asked, his blue eyes smiling.

Nick nodded.

"Say, I was just on my way to grab a bite, you like to join me?"

Nick glanced over to where the _Mimi_ sat.  A tall, red-haired man wandered restlessly around the pad, obviously waiting for him.  _Well, you were the one who was looking for an excuse not to show, Ryder_ , he chastised himself.  "Sure, sounds great," he said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"A cop?"

"Yeah," John said, dipping a few fries into the pile of ketchup next to his cheeseburger and shoving them into his mouth with obvious pleasure.  Wiping the remaining salt crystals off his gray-black beard he continued, "You'll have to excuse me, I don't get a chance to eat like this often."  He patted his flat stomach.  "It'll give you a spare tire if you're not careful…  I'd just made detective, in fact.  I transferred to Narco and the first time I went undercover the whole operation was blown when a guy I busted as a rookie recognized me.  Can you believe the luck?  The twerp was supposed to still be up in the big house.  He shot me in the back – didn't see it coming, anyway.  The little puke went to prison for fifteen years and I got the chair."  The man looked up, smiling at the pun.

Nick shook his head in admiration.

"Can you believe he had the balls to threaten me at the trial?  'I'll get you, Storie.'  Like I'd shot him, for Christ's sake!  And who said God doesn't have a sense of humor?"

"So, what do you do now?"

John smiled.  "You _are_ new to this, aren't you?  A little bit of everything.  I worked in a theater until I got tired of the features.  You know, after a few months, they all sound the same!  Then I took a security position watching remote surveillance monitors for one of those downtown high-risers.  Booorrrring!"

Nick laughed.  It was good to talk to someone who was in the same position, someone who seemed happy with himself.  How the hell did he do it?  "Then what?"

"I finally settled down and started teaching high school."

Nick's eyes widened.  "High school?"

"Yep, I teach out at Catalina, like in the Valley, dude.  It's a school for kids who've been in trouble with the law.  It's a challenge, but damn rewarding when you can watch a few of them turn their lives around.  I'll tell you, though, it was harder going to college to get my degree to teach than facing the kids.  I never went to college before!   I felt like a Martian!"

Nick nodded.  There were more avenues out there than he imagined.  The more he listened to John the more possibilities he could see.  He smiled at the man. "Hey, how'd you like to see the _Riptide_ and meet a couple of friends of mine.  They're good people."

"Sounds fine by me.  It's summer vacation!  I'm supposed to be re-lax-ing!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick's rapid transformation took Cody and Murray by surprise.  Within a month, John had pulled Nick out of his deepening depression, restoring his hopes and usual optimistic spirit.  And it wasn't long before the pair grew as fond of the ex-cop as Nick was.

Much to the chagrin of the two "biped" detectives, John taught Nick how to play wheelchair basketball, the two of them going on to "slaughter" Cody and Murray in their weekly games.  The four of them even headed out on a couple of fishing trips that included Lieutenant Parisi.  One ended in a feast of laughter after Nick forgot to lock his wheels in place and was nearly dragged overboard by the large tuna he hooked.

"Oh, very funny, you guys," Nick grouched as Cody helped pull him up off the deck.

The others tried to keep the smiles off their faces, but it only took a single giggle from Murray to send them into spasms again.  Nick tried to hold the "mad" for as long as possible, but it was a losing battle and soon he was laughing along with the rest.

"Well, at least I caught something!" Nick retorted when John requested an instant replay so he could study the detective's form more closely for future reference.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick spun the wheelchair around on its rear wheels, working on perfecting the balance John promised would give him the edge on Cody on the basketball court.  The blond detective was taking a couple of hours during the week to practice his game.

 _Guess you can only take getting beat by a couple of guys in wheelchairs for so long_ , Nick laughed to himself.

He absently wondered what was keeping John.  The older man said he had news about an old friend, another retired police officer, who ran his own security firm and needed a sedentary gate guard to operate the lobby security set up for a high rent beach-side apartment complex.  The detective knew he couldn't do that work for long, but he was starting to feel guilty about not contributing to the expenses.  Nick checked his watch.  John was nearly a half-hour late.

"Nick!"

The sight of Cody heading for him at a fast trot triggered the dark-haired detective's internal alarms.  "What's up?" he demanded when Cody reached him.

"Joanna called; she's looking for John.  The guy who shot him escaped."

"What?"

"Yeah, Joanna said he's been a model prisoner the last six years, so they made him a trustee and he just walked away this morning.  They were downtown, washing black and whites.  Can you believe it?  They didn't even realize he was missing until lunch time."

Nick snorted and glanced around the Pier.  "John was supposed to meet me here, man, but he's late."

"Great.  Now what?  All this is like something out of a bad late-night movie if you ask me."

Nick shook his head, "Isn't life like that?" 

The familiar sight of John rolling down the incline to the main pier solved the problem.  Nick nodded toward the approaching ex-cop, a flash catching his attention as he did.  "There!" he said, pointing to a younger man cutting through the Pier 56 mid-day crowd.  He was on a path to intercept John, a gun hanging loosely in his hand, occasionally reflecting in the midday sun.

Cody broke into a run, hoping to head off the escaped prisoner before he reached the wheelchair-bound man.

Nick grabbed the wheels of his chair and began pushing.  "John!" he yelled when he was close enough.

The older man stopped, the smile on his face fading at the sight of Nick looking serious and pointing frantically.  John followed the path of Nick's finger, catching sight of the approaching man who had crippled him.

Jerking the chair around, the ex-cop headed for the cover of the shops.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Cody watched the convict follow John into the maze of buildings.  "Damn!"

Nick rolled along, looking frantically for one of the three men and wishing desperately he had his .45 with him.  _Where the hell are they?_

Rounding a corner shop, Nick watched the unfolding scene with a growing horror.  Cody stood several feet in front of Nick, the convict holding a gun on him from several yards further up the Pier.  He was yelling at the detective to get his hands up.  Cody complied while several tourists ran for cover, one woman screaming.

Nick watched John round a building further behind the man and began shoving himself faster and faster toward the escapee.  The detectives knew immediately what John had in mind.  It was crazy, but it just might work if he had time to pull it off.

"Hey!  What the hell're you doing!" Nick yelled at the escapee, who now had to split his attention between the two _Riptide_ partners.

"Where's that cop?!"

"What cop?  What're you talking about?" Cody asked.

"Who are you?" Nick asked.

The convict's gun wavered between the two detectives.  John pushed harder, picking up more speed as he bore down on the man.  The sound from the approaching wheelchair finally attracted the convict's attention and he turned in time to see John descending on him.  "Bastard!" he yelled, his gaze flickering back to Cody, the obvious threat, as John grabbed one of the wheels and sent the chair into a slide.

"Cody!" Nick yelled, lunging from his own wheelchair.  He didn't feel the concrete under his feet as he took the three steps necessary to reach the blond.  Grabbing Cody about the waist, they fell roughly to the ground as a shot passed over them.

John spilled from his chair as it collided with the escapee, connecting with the convict's legs and flipping him over.

Cody scrambled over to grab the gun.  "Don't move!" he yelled at the man, who merely moaned in reply as he climbed to his hands and knees.

"John, you okay?" Nick called.

"Oh, yeah, just peachy," the ex-detective groaned.  "I feel like I was just run over."

"So does he," Cody said with a smile, nodding at the prisoner, who quietly passed out, collapsing on the concrete with a thud.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Cody helped John back into his functional if somewhat scuffed wheelchair while the police collected the unconscious convict.

"Well, I guess what the brochure said about this thing being able to withstand anything short of a tank was true," John said as he settled himself.

"Hey, my turn," Nick yelled at his partner.

Cody turned and stared at the dark-haired man.  "Why?" he asked.

"Why?  Why?  Because I saved your life, that's why!  The least you can do is help me up!"

Cody's smiled widened.  "Nick, where were you, exactly, when you saved my life?"

"What?"

John watched the exchange with a growing realization.  "Ah, come on, Ryder," he urged, "where were you?  I'm hungry and he isn't gonna be happy until you tell him."

Nick looked over his shoulder.  "Right there where the chair fell over," he said.

"And where was I?"

A heavy sigh proceeded a resigned, "Right about here.  Now, can you help–"

"Nick, how'd you get from the chair to where I was?"

Nick opened his mouth to reply, closed it, and opened it again in the best fish imitation Cody could remember seeing. Glancing back at the fallen chair, Nick's brow furrowed.  "I– I don't know."

John burst out in peals of laughter, which brought the dark-haired detective's attention back to the two men.

"What's so damn funny?" Nick demanded.

"You walked, buddy!" Cody yelled excitedly, swinging his arm wide.

"I what?"

"I said, you _walked_.  Well, actually, you _ran_.  You got up and took steps to push my sorry hide out of the way!"

Nick looked down at the legs he thought had betrayed him and wiggled his toes.  With the expression of a man about to put the final facet on a priceless diamond, the detective looked at his knees and willed them to bend.  They complied.

"I did it.  I did it!  I don't believe it!"

"Believe it, buddy, believe it," Cody said softly. 

"All right," John breathed in a whisper.  Both men missed the shadow of pain that crossed the ex-cop's features, quickly replaced with genuine happiness.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The wind blew lightly, just enough to lift a few kites on the beach and provide the sailboats a good afternoon.  Nick walked slowly down the Pier, still trying to get the hang of the canes he would have to use for a few weeks.  The thrill of being on his feet again made the effort and inconvenience tolerable.  He proceeded along until he found John, waiting for him at the pretzel stand.

"Hey-ya, gimp!" he called to the detective.

Nick shook his head, raising one of the aluminum canes and swinging it in the most threatening manner he could manage and still balance with the other.

"Damned if he isn't a biped again!  And look what it does to his disposition!"

Nick sat down with a smile, but shifted uncomfortably several times before he could look up at the man.  "Look, John, I, huh–"

"Nick, before you say what you have to say, let me tell you something, okay?"

The detective nodded.

"I just want you to know that my running into you was no accident.  Doctor Poe asked me to drop in and talk to you.  I do some counseling for guys who are recent wheelers.  She said you might need to talk to someone.  It was just luck that I saw you out here first.  I was headed for the _Riptide_ when I yelled at you.  And, Cody and Murray had no idea that Doctor Poe had sent me.  I just wanted that in the open before you said what you have to say."

Nick paused for a moment.  "That's okay; I like you anyway."

The pair chuckled.

"And, I'm damn glad you've got your legs back, man, really," John said.  "You and your partners are good people."

"John, why do I feel so guilty?" Nick asked, unable to find an easier way to say it.

"I don't know, exactly.  It isn't easy being handicapped, no matter what it is, but we make adjustments.  I'm not saying I don't wish I'd get that lucky, but, I'm happy with my life, really.  You don't have to feel sorry for me, Nick, or guilty that it was you and not me.  Understand?  Besides, I'd like to think that you, and Cody and Murray, will still take this wheeler out for a little fishing once in a while."

"You got it, man, anytime."

"Great!  Maybe I'll even bring along a few of my students!"  John looked at the younger man.  "Nick, you didn't do this to me, and there's not a thing either of us can do to change it.  Don't feel bad about God being good to you.  I figure there's a reason for all this, even if we can't always figure it out.  Friends?"

"Yeah," Nick said extending his hand. His eyes glistened.  John gripped the proffered hand firmly.  "Besides," he added, "we'll have to make sure Cody and Murray don't get too cocky on the basketball court, right?"  John grinned.  "Of course, you're gonna have to play in a chair, 'cause if I pass to you and you're standing up, I might damage you for life!"

          Nick laughed.  "That's a deal, man!"

 

The End


End file.
